


sing me to sleep

by hiraethia



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: A Quiet Place AU, Family Feels, Graphic Violence, Grief, Heavy Emotions, Individual warnings per chapter, M/M, Monsters, Neil is deaf, Panic Attacks, Post-Apocalypse, past character deaths, sadness and softness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-05-10 00:30:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14726537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiraethia/pseuds/hiraethia
Summary: if they hear you, they hunt you.neil lost his hearing. andrew lost his mother. the foxes lost some of their own members. they all refuse to lose anything or anyone else.(the world was invaded by alien monsters, ones that are blind and hunt only by sound. the only way to survive is tostay silent).





	1. i-l-o-v-e-y-o-u

**Author's Note:**

> title from asleep by the smiths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> neil never thought anything could be worse than his father. it turns out the universe is hellbent on proving him wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: violence, character death, grief at the end/breakdown
> 
> i really hope this is medically accurate, please correct me if anything is wrong!
> 
> (sonovenari literally means 'sound hunter', or it's supposed to according to google. i named the monsters bc they don't actually have a name in the movie).

_They were running down the rainy street, thunder booming behind them, but never loud enough to cover the piercing sounds of gunshots fired in the night._

_A bullet nicked the pole right next to Chris and ricocheted off. He felt the sting of its fragment grazing his cheek, but he didn’t stop. Blood trickled down his face, warmer than the rain, as he only sprinted faster._

_Another gunshot rang out, and they managed to duck into a side alley before it could hit either of them. Mary - Alice - yanked Chris behind a dumpster, pressing him against the wall._

_”Abram,” she panted, “remember the plan. Find our car. Light the wire, and get out as fast as you can.”_

_”What about you?” Chris demanded, flinching when someone shouted in the distance._

_”I’ll be right behind you. I’ll lead them in,” his mother said. “This can only work once. Be careful.”_

_Chris waited until she signaled for him to move, before dashing out from behind the dumpster. He heard someone - it sounded like Lola - yell, “There they are!”_

_He didn’t stop to find out. He ran even though his heart was pounding sickly and he wanted to throw up. He ran because their lives depended on it - both his and his mother’s._

_He finally saw their car only a few more streets up. It was close to the empty apartment complex they were squatting at. His mother had been prepared; she’d rigged it to be filled with explosives that would only detonate if the wire underneath the car was lit. They’d practiced countless times, because they’d known that there was no way they could keep running like this._

_Chris ran faster, his feet pounding against the wet pavement. A shot rang out - he looked over his shoulder to see his mother with her gun out. Gritting his teeth, Chris quickened his pace until he finally reached the car._

_Tucking his arms close, he dove underneath the car. He ignored the pain of gravel and asphalt digging into his raw skin as he unsteadily reached into his pocket, fumbling for the lighter._

_They were approaching. Chris could hear them._

_His mother’s shout. “Now, Chris!”_

_He flicked it on after two tries and lit the wire. He only had twent seconds to get out._

_Chris managed to roll out and get to his feet just as his mother was passing by. He stared to run after her, diving away from the car, but another gunshot rang out._

_Pain, blinding and white-hot, seared through his thigh. Chris let out a half-muffled yelp before going down, one hand pressed against the wound as it bled._

_”Abram!” his mother screamed._

_There were ten seconds left. He’d been counting._

_Chris forced himself to rise to his feet despite the bullet that had grazed his leg. He clenched his teeth against the scream bubbling in his throat, and started to run._

_He only made it several feet away before diving for the cover of the nearby apartments. He covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut._

_Lola and Nathan were right next to the car when it exploded._

_The world rang_ _and tilted to the side. Chris watched with morbid fascination as his worst nightmare burned in the fiery inferno of the old vehicle, as the fire rose up despite the rain in a thick pulse of black smoke._

_They were dead. They were dead._

_Ashes to ashes._

_Someone grabbed Chris by the shoulders. He flinched hard and immediately started struggling, but then his mother appeared in front of him._

_She was saying something, maybe even shouting, but Chris couldn’t hear her. Everything was muffled and ringing, like someone had smothered his entire had and plugged his ears._

_His mother’s eyes widened as Chris kept staring at her uselessly. He couldn’t tell what was worse: the fury in her face, or the absolute fear in her eyes._

_She grabbed him and lifted him up, practically dragging him to their backup car. Chris nearly tipped over, holding onto his mother for dear life, as she pushed him into the passenger seat._

_His mother started the car. Chris could feel the vibrations of the engines through the seat. She peeled away from the curb and sped away from the site of Nathan’s fiery grave._

_It wasn’t until later that night, after several glasses of whiskey, after his mother sat down in front of him and snapped her fingers repeatedly next to both his ears, after three days, then five, that they knew -_

_He wouldn’t be able to hear on his own again._

\--

Neil and Mary were heading through another nameless, isolated town when the world ended.

Or rather, it had ended weeks ago. 

Mary had signed with an air of desperation to Neil the night after the so-called monsters invaded the earth.

It sounded much funnier out loud, like one of those shitty sci-fi movies that Neil never had the time to watch. But he'd seen the way the radios slowly died out, seen the way the cities slowly turned into ghost towns as people ran - ran wherever they could. 

"They hunt by sound," Mary signed to him after reading the eleventh news article that night. Neil was lying in bed, toying with his hearing aid. "They are blind and have body armor. But if we stay silent, then we survive."

Neil tightened his grip on his hearing aid, biting his lip. Mary didn't seem too terrified, but perhaps she was hiding it. They had a chance, after all. They knew how to speak in silence, they knew how to take care of themselves, and they knew each other. 

They'd survived before, and they'd survive again. 

As unknown as everything else was, this was the one truth Neil was absolutely certain of.

He sat up, signing back, "How many are there?"

"Here, I don't know," Mary replied. "Not sure if it's worldwide or just here in the states. The airports are closed, so we cannot get out." 

Neil gazed at his mother as she stood up and set aside the newspaper. She started pacing around, fingers to her lips as she thought. Glancing down at the battered hearing aid in his hands, Neil slowly lifted it to his ear again and slipped it on.

It made no difference. It was already so damaged.

Eventually Mary stopped pacing and turned to him. "We need to leave," she signed.

"Go to where?"

"Somewhere where there is a bigger noise." 

So they'd packed up and left the safe house. The cities were empty, the highways were practically demolished. All they could do was walk through the nothingness and hope there was something out there for them.

It was an endless cycle, one Neil began to think they'd never get out of.

\--

_Neil had always known he'd been a burden on his mother._

_He was the one that made the mistakes. He was the one that endangered them. He was the one that stayed behind too long out of pointless sentiment and nearly dragged them both down._

_Of course he had to lose his damn hearing now._

_Even without Nathan actively hunting them down, there were still his followers to consider. Losing his ability to hear was the last thing they needed, and now that was just one more thing his mother had to worry about._

_She'd gotten him a pair of hearing aids. They helped a bit, allowing him to hear some noises, but the explosion had damaged his hearing beyond repair. He couldn't rely on them; he had to learn how to survive in complete silence now, his five senses now down to four._

_Mary stayed with him constantly, watching out for him. She forced him to stay up late nights learning as much sign language as he could, practicing the phrases and words over and over again until he could do them in a heartbeat. She stayed with him even when he lost balance, when he got sick, when he couldn't read her lips because he was just so exhausted._

_She stayed with him through it all._

_And Neil couldn't repay her for it, couldn't watch her back as well as he used to. He could learn and adapt - he had no other choice - but things weren't the same._

_Mary never outwardly blamed him for any of the things that happened to them, but he knew that she must have hated him secretly. If he'd run faster, if he'd been paying more attention, he would've been able to dodge that bullet and escape the explosion. It was his fault._

_She was saddled with a deadweight, Neil thought to himself bitterly._

_He didn't know why Mary always put up with him, only that if she hadn't, he'd be dead long ago._

_The first thing they'd done after picking up sign language was choose new names for themselves. Neil knew he wanted his first name almost immediately - he wanted to take Nathan out entirely._

_Nathaniel was dead, after all, as long as Nathan was._

_He'd picked up a phone book and randomly chosen a last name, Josten. Mary returned to her birth name, Mary Hatford._

_For a while it was nothing but learning sign language and reading lips. Then it was going back into the world, learning to use his sight as his most important weapon. He wouldn't be able to hear things sneaking up on him now, but if he kept an eye on his surroundings on all times, he would be fine. He just needed to be alert, was all._

_As long as Mary didn't throw him aside or outwardly hate him, Neil would do everything he could to make her life easier._

_It was a year after Nathan died that the Sonovenari crashed into Earth on a meteorite._

_\--_

Soundlings were the more appropriate name for them. 

There were three in the area that Mary and Neil had eventually settled on. It was in a remote part of the mountains, a small cabin close to a river where they could hunt. 

Things were alright, for the most part. Every night Neil would watch as his mother climbed on top of the cabin and lit the lantern on the chimney. Then he'd turn out to the rest of the area, watching as one by one, fires in the distance also flickered up.

They were surviving. It was supposed to be okay. The soundlings wouldn't find them.

Neil was sitting outside, watching the afternoon sky beyond the snow-capped peaks, while playing with his hearing aid. It rarely worked anymore, but he'd gotten so used to life without sound at all that it didn't really matter. He kept it more out of spite than anything - that he'd survived anyway.

He felt the soft vibrations in the porch from his mother's slow footsteps. Neil looked over his shoulder to see Mary standing in the doorway, cigarette in hand and backpack slung over her shoulder.

"Neil," she signed, "ready to come to check on the traps?"

"I am," he signed back. "I'll grab my things."

Mary crushed the cigarette out on the doorpost before stepping past him. She tread carefully, watching the ground so that she wouldn't accidentally step on anything that could snap. Neil slipped his hearing aid back on and put on his backpack, tucking his knife into his pocket.

He followed his mother down the trail.

The sky eventually turned pink, then navy, reflecting off the white mountain snow. None of their traps had captured anything new, but that was okay, since they had enough supplies to last at least another two weeks anyways.

He switched on his flashlight, following his mother up the trail back to their house. He kept a careful eye on the ground in front of him, carefully sidestepping anything that could've made noise had he stepped on it.

They were almost home when Mary suddenly stopped, throwing out her hand in front of Neil. He barely managed to stop from crashing into her.

She turned around, pressing a finger to her lips. There was a haunted look in her dark eyes.

"What is it?" Neil signed, tucking his flashlight in his arm.

"There's something inside." Mary shook her head when Neil's eyes widened. "Stay quiet. Something must have fallen."

Neil tried to crane his neck to look past her, but Mary suddenly grabbed him by the shoulder, squeezing harshly. She glared at him, shaking her head curtly again. 

 _Don't_ , she mouthed at him.

He shut his eyes tightly, biting his lip so hard he drew blood. It wasn't the first time they'd faced the soundlings, but he never could get used to it: praying to a God that he didn't even believe in that he wouldn't fuck things up, that he wouldn't make one wrong step and then give everything away. 

He lived off making bargains for one more minute to live, one more minute to keep  _breathing_.

Mary reached up, releasing his shoulder and placing her hand against the back of Neil's neck. Her touch was heavy but grounding. Neil forced himself to breathe in slowly - not too loudly - and exhaled through clenched teeth.

It seemed like hours until his mother finally unfroze.

"Come with me," she motioned, dropping her hand and heading toward the cabin. Neil's nape felt too cold without her fingers there.

They walked slowly - so slowly - up to the porch. Mary stepped up first, walking closest to the edges of the stairs so that they wouldn't creak under her weight. Neil followed her movements, hand drifting to the knife in his pocket. 

The door was wide open. Neil tried not to stare too long at the deep claw marks against the door frame.

The insides of the cabin were completely destroyed. The couches were overturned, the cups and plates were shattered, the water was leaking. Papers from torn-up books fluttered listlessly in the wind, and Neil pressed a hand over his mouth harshly to stop the anguished gasp threatening to make its way up his throat.

Mary's face was dark when she turned back toward him, mechanical in her assessments of the damage.

"It's gone, but it has to still be here," she signed. "Get in the car. It's too dangerous here."

"And you?" he gestured.

"I will take care of it."

His heart dropped, and he shook his head frantically. "Mom, you can't!"

"Abram."

"It's too dangerous. You will be hurt."

"Abram. Stop." Mary made a cutting motion at her palm. "We don't know what happened, but we cannot wait. Get. In. The. Car."

He stared at his mother for a moment longer, before tearing his gaze away. Shouldering his backpack, he headed back down the stairs and cut his way across the field. Outside, the sky was dark already, his flashlight being his own source of illumination.

Neil swung it over the ground, assessing it once carefully, before breaking into a run across the trail. 

There was an abandoned car not far from the cabin that they'd never used. Neil was pretty sure it had been left there from its previous occupants, but now it was empty. Mary had used it to hide their emergency supplies, only telling Neil to keep the car there as "back-up."

 _"We never know when we may need it_ _,"_ she'd signed to him.  _"We can use it to make a bigger noise."_

Neil climbed inside it, shutting the door as carefully as he could. He clambered inside the backseat, propping his backpack against the window and peeking out the back.

He could see his mother not far up the trail. She would stand still for a few moments, probably listening out and looking around, before taking several steps forward. Neil worried his lip despite the fact that it was still bleeding, gripping the old leather seats tightly as he watched Mary.

She reached the shed ten minutes later, standing underneath the shade of the building. 

Neil wanted to push open the door and motion for his mother to get away, to come to the car with him, when he noticed the shadows were moving.

Then he saw the soundling on the roof. 

The world fell out from underneath him.

Mary stared at Neil, her ax in one hand. For a sick, hysterical moment, Neil thought she looked more like Nathan than ever before.

_His father, looming over them, smile wider than Neil had thought possible. His cleaver poised to strike, blood glinting off the polished metal. Silent insanity._

Everything came full circle, after all. Always.

The monster leaped off the roof at her just as she whirled around, ax slashing through the air. Neil saw as it swung its giant claws toward his mother, throwing her aside like she was nothing.

She landed on the trail, still.

Neil was screaming before he could even realize it. 

_"MOM!"_

He could see the soundling perk up, its head tilted in his direction. Long fangs stringed with saliva glinted in the moonlight as it suddenly turned away from his mother and launched itself in his direction. Neil clapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late.

The car rocked underneath the soundling’s weight as it crashed against the vehicle, the glass immediately shattering from its pointy claws. Neil ducked, crawling between the seats, while covering his head.

The car shook underneath the weight of the monster. The roof dented under the pressure of its claws as it kept hacking away at the roof. A quiet whimper tore from Neil's chest as the vehicle nearly tipped to the side. His mind was whirling too fast to make another useless bargain with God - _please, let me live, let me_ live _._ Clinging onto the door handle so he wouldn't fall over, Neil managed to pull himself up to look out the window, to where his mother was -

She was on her feet again, and she was looking straight at him.

Neil forgot everything about the monster, about the shuddering car, about the way his hands kept sliding off the handle because they were shaking so hard.

Blood stained her shirt. Thick, dark, crimson. In three marks, where the monster's claws had ripped through her skin. Neil could tell she was shaking from the effort of standing, but she fully straightened up anyway.

Moonlight shone around her hair, softening her contours, engulfing her in what looked like a halo. If Neil didn't know any better, if they were in any place other than this, if he hadn't known that his mother was made of hard edges and knives and steel, he would've called her an angel.

He watched as she slowly lifted her hands, pointing a finger at her own chest first. Her eyes glimmered strangely in the night, as she clenched her hands into fists and crossed her arms over her chest. Then, with one trembling finger, she pointed at Neil.

"I love you, Abram," she signed. Neil's eyes widened when she continued:

"I have always loved you."

He wished he could've cherished it more. He wished he could've signed it back. He wished he could've smiled, maybe.

But instead there was only ice in his heart, his chest freezing over, _dread_ grabbing him in a choke hold, as he realized what she meant.

Mary's eyes fluttered shut, like she was steeling herself. Her hands came up as if in slow motion to cup her mouth.

The car shook -

And she screamed.

And Neil couldn't hear it, no, he never would, but he didn't need to imagine it. He could feel the way the car stopped shaking, could see Mary tilt her chin up - because if his mother was anything, she was _stubborn_  and stupidly _brave_  - and -

The monster tore clean through her.

His blood was gone - replaced by cold adrenaline and numb shock. Neil didn't stay to watch his mother get torn apart, limb by limb by the monster; he sprinted away as quickly as he could, the only things in his hands his flashlight and backpack.

He ran until dawn, and kept running.

\--

_"Abram. I need to talk to you." His mother sat down across from where he was buried in the thin quilt they called a blanket. He sat up, fiddling with his hearing aid._

_"What is it?"_

_She stared at him for a moment too long, before lifting her hands. She signed, "I need to know that you know how to take care of yourself, should I ever die."_

_Neil felt his entire chest go cold at the thought. His stomach churned uneasily as he hesitantly signed back, "But you won't."_

_"I'm not immortal, Abram. I just need to know." Mary shrugged, raising her eyebrows. "A hypothetical, if you will."_

_He shook his head, suddenly wanting to curl in on himself. A sick heaviness settled in his gut. "You know I already understand, Mom."_

_"I need to know myself," she signed. She hesitated for a moment, before turning so that she could face Neil head-on, and continued signing, "Then make me a promise."_

_"Okay," Neil replied._

_She leaned closer. "Don't look back."_

_He signed back, "Don't look back."_

_"Don't slow down."_

_Neil's hands began to shake. "Don't slow down," he parroted._

_A hollow smile crossed his mother's face as she signed the final promise. "Don't trust anyone."_

_"Don't trust anyone," Neil gestured._

_"Good. Repeat them back to me."_

_"Don't look back. Don't slow down. Don't trust anyone."_

_Neil thought he'd forgotten how to breathe as his mother stood up and placed a hand on his head._

_"Good, Abram."_

\--

Neil made it to another town entirely before finally collapsing in an abandoned store.

He was sure to barricade himself inside, locking the door before falling to his knees. His lungs were about to burst - he knew it - as he rocked back and forth, cradling himself in a sorry attempt to hold himself together.

No matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he clutched his head, he couldn't rid himself of the memory of his mother's mangled body.

Mary had survived bullets, cleavers, and knives. She had survived a life on the run and a life with a monster. She had survived  _Nathan fucking Wesninski_.

Only to die in a matter of seconds.

Sharp edges were nothing on a paper body, a paper existence, in the end.

And the worst part of everything, the knife stuck in his heart, was:

It was Neil's fault.

It was all his fucking fault.

If he hadn't screamed - he was fucking deaf,  _why_ did he scream, he couldn't even hear his own voice he'd forgotten the sound of his own fucking voice he shouldn't have even opened his fucking mouth in the first place - his mother could have still been alive maybe she would've still been alive - 

He knew how to patch up the worst wounds, maybe he could've saved her he could've saved her HE COULD'VE SAVED HER - 

Blinded by his own tears, Neil bit down harshly on his fist so he wouldn't start screaming. Silent sobs wracked his body as he pressed his head against the cold concrete floor, as the taste of blood flooded his mouth once more.

_I love you, Abram._

_I have always loved you._

Mary wouldn't have been cruel enough to lie to Neil on her deathbed - she couldn't have.

But Neil wasn't sure if he could ever believe her, if it was just her goddamned hero complex talking again.

( _You could have saved her_ ).

A world without sound was a world Neil could deal with, could adapt to, even.

But a world without Mary Hatford - it was a world Neil wasn't sure would be worth living in at all.

\--

_"I'll find you a new one," Mary signed with a rare, resigned smile as she held Neil's battered hearing aid up to the light._

_"You will?" Neil couldn't help the weak jolt of excitement running through his chest. His mother nodded, her thumb rubbing off a dirt smear on the plastic._

_"I'll make it myself if I have to." She glanced at him, before tucking it back over his ear. "However long it takes."_

_"Promise?"_

_"I promise."_


	2. y-o-u-h-a-v-e-t-h-e-s-t-a-r-s

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> neil struggles to fix his hearing aid. he accidentally ventures a little too far in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings!
> 
> HELLO!! IS ANYONE STILL HERE OR AM I SHOUTING INTO A VOID!!!
> 
> i am so, so sorry for literally not touching this since may. it's been more than half a year. i literally have this whole thing planned out but i kind of didn't know how to write it all? but!!!! i watched bird box today and it lit a fire under my Ass to finish this chapter. tbh i love these kinds of premises where one sense is removed entirely in order to survive, and bird box just reminded me how much i loved a quiet place. so here we are!!
> 
> starting out the new year with an unedited chapter. yay!

For days - weeks - after Mary's death, Neil wandered the desolate roads and forests. He crashed at different abandoned places - warehouses, homes, cars. He hadn't seen a soundling since he'd fled from the one that had killed his mother. It had only been a little more than a month after his mother had been torn from the world - torn apart with merciless claws and dripping teeth - and he could swear that he hadn't slept for years. 

 _Safety. Peace. Home_. They'd all slipped from him, fled when he hadn't been looking. Run away from him to a place he knew he'd never be able to reach again. They hurt like the exit holes of bullet wounds, and he'd been bleeding out since the day Mary died.

His dreams were haunted by her voice. And Neil felt that each time he saw her, drifting about in his nightmares, torso torn right open by monster claws, she became more and more distorted. 

(He was forgetting her sound).

((Somehow it hurt more than her death)).

Neil had woken up before dawn from yet another restless night of sleep. This time, he'd dreamed he was back in the mountains, back at their cabin. His mother just kept screaming and screaming, except it sounded more like a high-pitched ringing. Like radio feedback. It hurt Neil's head, gripping him like a vice, and he tried to call out to her - 

Then the monster came lunging toward him.

He jolted awake, immediately slapping a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound of his gasping. It didn't really matter anyway - he'd managed to find an abandoned store to sleep in. Squeezing his eyes shut, Neil forced himself to count to ten in every single language he knew, and he only moved after his breathing had steadied. Sweat made his shirt cling uncomfortably to his back as he forced himself to sit up, stretching out a crick in his neck and getting to his feet. He fumbled around the floor for his last hearing aid, slipping it on with trembling hands. 

He looked around to check all the windows and doors were closed. Then he carefully knelt back down again, holding one hand up right next to the aid. He snapped once, twice, then three times.

No sound.

A frustrated growl threatened to escape him, but Neil gritted his teeth. It didn't matter. He could operate without sound anyway - he just had to be extra alert.

Neil had never been particularly skilled with technology. His mother had always been the one to fix his hearing aids whenever they broke down. She had always been the one to hot-wire cars and pick apart phones and toy with the radios to see if they could pick up any signals nearby. He'd been sure to watch her whenever she worked, learning by eye, but he'd never had reason to really put the skills into practice.

(Not until after she died).

Neil slipped on his backpack and stood up. He headed over to one of the windows, peeking out of them. The sun was just barely rising, piercing the midnight sky with soft rays of light. He breathed out, once or twice, before heading toward the back of the store.

It hadn't been completely looted. Neil had been so exhausted when he'd found it that he hadn't bothered to check for supplies, but now that he wasn't dead on his feet, he could. He slowly made his way around the back aisles, staring down at the ground to check for broken glass, leaves, or anything else that could betray him. 

He managed to salvage two packs of batteries that he hoped hadn't expired and a couple of canned vegetables. The sun was completely up by the time he finished his trip around the entire store. 

Neil shut his eyes against a dizzy spell as he turned around to set down his bag. Wavering slightly, he gripped the straps of his backpack as tightly as he could, as he fought off the spinning. He slowly slipped to the ground, unzipping his bag when he felt well enough to do so. He tucked the spare batteries and food away underneath his tattered jacket, before fishing out his near-empty bottle of water. 

Dehydration. It was going to kill him before any soundling ever could.

Neil spent the next several minutes finishing up the water, tilting his head back against the wall as he set aside his now empty bottle. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply in and out. 

 _You're fine. You're going to be fine_ , he repeated to himself.  _Stay alert. Stay awake._

_(Don't look back. Don't slow down)._

_((Don't trust anyone))._

He reached up, tapping on his hearing aid. 

Nothing.

\--

Neil figured the town he was in had been abandoned. He made his way down the sun-baked, dust-filled streets, barefoot. Shoes would make too much noise, he knew that. One hand gripping his backpack strap, the other resting against the knife he'd strapped to his waist, Neil headed down the lone road until he found a bridge.

It ran over a small stream. Neil paused at the edge of it, staring down at the water. 

He could see his reflection in it, wavering and unsteady around the edges. He could barely hold back a shudder when he noticed his father's ice eyes staring back at him.

(It was a cruel joke that Neil had inherited almost nothing from his mother).

((He  _had_ gotten her foolish tenacity. Whether it was a blessing or a curse, Neil didn't know if he'd survive long enough to find out)).

His hair was getting long. Neil brushed it away from his face, tearing his gaze away from the stream to look around. He knew it would be making noise, but from the looks of it, the current wasn't strong enough to create much of a disturbance. He was safe here.

Neil knelt down, dipping his water bottle into it and gathering as much water as he could. He paused long enough to drink some, before filling it up completely and heading off again.

He crossed the bridge slowly, taking in his surroundings. The sun shone brightly down at him, illuminating everything in an almost buttery glow. His shadow moved alongside him, faithful as ever, while he crossed the bridge. Neil tried to keep his steps as light as he could - there was a high chance the wooden planks were creaking underneath him, and he couldn't completely rely on the sound of the stream to block out the noise.

When he finally reached the end of the bridge, Neil paused and looked around. The trail had disappeared into wilderness. Trees stood all around him, framing him from the rest of the world. Golden sunlight pierced through the thick covering of leaves, covering the ground in halcyon yellow dapples. If he looked closely enough, he'd see the physical streams of light filtering to the floor of the woods - writhing with gentle dust motes and the occasional fly.

It was almost as if the world hadn't even ended.

Neil squinted up against the light, covering his eyes with one hand. A large draft tugged at his shirt, and the light shifted to and fro as the leaves danced in the wind. A slight smile tugged at Neil's chapped lips.

He could only imagine the amount of noise surrounding him. It was a safety blanket - a blessing that surely wouldn't last to tomorrow.

Exhaustion fading away, he set onward.

\--

Neil walked for what felt like forever. The light transitioned from buttery golden to dark, rich honey as he kept going; he figured it was late afternoon. Soon enough, it'd be dark, and Neil wasn't planning on spending a night in the forest. 

He stopped only once for a water break. Sitting down against a fallen log in one of the thinner parts of the forest, he sipped slowly from his bottle so he didn't drain it too quickly, holding it tightly with his shaking fingers. 

He'd made sure not to wander too far into the thick parts of the forest, though it still seemed like he'd been surrounded by trees for miles. From where he sat, he could see the distant outlines of the hills and clearings. Neil carefully set the cap back on his bottle, screwing it shut tightly as he wiggled his toes against the dirt. The wind picked up again, and he shivered. 

Neil drummed his fingers lightly against his knees, brushing the dust and dirt off his pants, as he wracked his brain to come up with a plan for the night. His estimate had been right - he could see the faint colors of a telltale sunset already beginning to seep into the sky. He'd survived nights outside before - but those had always been exponentially more dangerous for him. He didn't want to risk it.

Maybe he'd just keep walking until he found another river. His safety would almost be guaranteed there - no soundling would hear him over the noise of the water. Neil was about to stand back up when something caught his attention.

Smoke.

His eyes widened, and he stood up. 

No, it wasn't a dehydration-induced hallucination. It was definitely smoke he was seeing.

Neil scrambled on top of the log so he could see better, careful not to accidentally scrape himself on the bark. He strained his neck to look.

The smoke was coming from the nearby hills. If he squinted hard enough, he could make out the outline of a cabin.

Relief threatened to throw him off balance. Neil shouldered his bag, his nerves tingling with anticipation, before his mother's voice - distorted and faded - echoed through his mind once more.

 _Don't trust_ anyone.

Immediately the lightness in his stomach soured, and Neil's heart sank. There was no way he could break in to spend the night there. Smoke almost certainly indicated life.

He climbed back down the log, pinching himself. He'd just have to keep going, by himself.

 _You keep going, Abram,_ his mother would've said.

Keep going. Keep going. Keep going.

Alone.

(Him against the world. Against the universe).

((Bathed in the false optimism of getting fulfillment out of survival. Drowning in the sense that the world was never going to be his - it had  _never_ been his - and it was  _always_ going to be less)).

He unsheathed his knife, twirling it in his hands. A bitter smile threatened to spread on his face at how familiar the weight of the blade felt in his hands.

(It was just funny how his father would always be there, even after dying in a fiery explosion).

Neil couldn't afford to wallow in his own misery anymore. He shook his head, took inventory of his surroundings once more, and headed forward.

\--

_"Do you know what to do if you are ever lost?" his mother had asked him one night, while both of them were lying in front of their dying fire. Neil shook his head, curling their scrappy blanket tighter around himself as Mary sat up. She tapped his wrist, wrapping her fingers around it and directing his hand upward. When Neil frowned, she pointed up at the sky._

_"Look at the stars, Abram," she mouthed._

_"Which one?" Neil signed._

_A tired smile spread across her lips. Neil's heart stuttered at such an unfamiliar sight. Mary raised her eyebrows and gestured toward the sky once more, and Neil looked up._

_The clouds had been thick that night. They covered up the stars completely._

_"There's none tonight," he signed again._

_Mary took his hand, cradled it in her own. Neil watched with bated breath as she gently brushed her fingertips over the bandages on his fingers. Then, she touched the center of his palm, and began tracing the same pattern - over and over again._

_"The Little Dipper," she mouthed once she'd finished tracing it. Then she touched his palm again. "Remember it."_

_Neil traced the pattern against her arm, repeating it until Mary nodded with satisfaction. Then she scooted closer to him, cupping his face so their eyes would meet._

_"You have the stars in you too, Abram," she'd mouthed. "Do not forget that."_

_"What if I can't find them?" Neil mouthed back._

_"Even if you can't feel them, they are always there." Mary smiled softly again - Neil thought she looked like a completely different person. "Your father never had them. You two are universes apart."_

\--

Neil might have been deaf, but he wasn't useless. He knew when things were about to go wrong.

He'd been walking for maybe another hour, and he'd reached a more sparse part of the forest, when something changed. The back of his neck prickled like he was being watched. Like something had been following him for the past several minutes or so.

Immediately, his heart started racing. He was almost tempted to smack himself for being so stupid - maybe it was just him being paranoid, but he doubted it. Tightening his grip on his knife, he spun around with it held at the ready. There was nothing behind him. 

He whirled around to the right. Nothing. Left. Nothing.

It couldn't have been a soundling. He'd be dead already if it was one - they weren't known to stalk their prey. 

Neil's hand began shaking, and he took a cautious step forward. His free hand went up to fumble with his hearing aid, fingers clumsily tapping and adjusting it. Maybe by some miracle it'd decide to start working just then. 

He'd been so caught up in trying to fix his hearing aid that he didn't notice the extra shadow coming up from behind him. By the time he did, it was too late.

Someone slammed into him, slapping a hand over his mouth before he could possibly make any noise, the other pressing something against his throat. Neil shut his eyes tightly when he registered the familiar feeling of a blade, positioned right over his jugular. His heartbeat pounded sickly in his temples as he tried not to struggle, only holding onto his own knife before anyone could try to disarm him. 

(Appear weak. Wait till they let their guard down, his mother would've said).

((Then attack)).

The person behind Neil wasn't letting go, even when he didn't struggle. He opened his eyes to see a tall man approaching him, switchblade held in front of him as he regarded Neil warily.

The man looked to be about his mid-forties. His hair was dark but graying at the temples. His thick brows were drawn together as he scrutinized Neil, wrinkles around his eyes and forehead aging him more than they should've. Neil's eyes fell down to the tribal flame tattoos running up the man's scarred arms.

The standoff continued for maybe a minute, before the man lowered his weapon. He signed at the person behind him, "Midget, let him go." Neil shoved his way out of the person's grip as soon as it loosened the slightest, turning around to get a good look at them.

It was a boy, maybe only a year or two older than him. He didn't look like much - he was even shorter than Neil. He had blonde hair and hardened hazel eyes and an eerily blank look on his face, and he didn't even look bothered as he sheathed his knife and stepped back.

The older man approached them, and Neil whirled around again. He couldn't even feel angry - any relief he felt upon getting released was overtaken by panic. Who were these people? Were they going to kill him?

"We won't hurt you," the tattooed man signed as soon as he noticed the fear in Neil's eyes. "We live nearby."

"I mean no harm," Neil signed back. 

"My name is Wymack," he signed, spelling out his name. "That is Andrew."

"Neil." 

The blonde boy - Andrew - chose that moment to step out from behind Neil, joining Wymack's side. He glared at Neil for a long moment, before lifting a hand and tapping at his ear.

"You are deaf," he signed.

Neil reached up and removed his hearing aid, tucking it into his pocket. Wymack tilted his head to the side at his gesture.

"Yet you've survived this long," he observed.

"He should've died in the very beginning," Andrew signed.

"Fuck you!" Neil retorted. Wymack's lips twitched in an almost-smile. Andrew glared at him again and his hand started drifting toward his knife, before the older man held his arm out, stopping him.

"Neil," he signed, "where are you going?"

"Nowhere," Neil replied after a short hesitance. It was true. 

He was to walk and keep going on until he died. Because he refused to let his mother's sacrifice be for  _nothing_.

(He  _was_ nothing).

((But he refused to let her down twice)).

Wymack turned to look at Andrew, and they seemed to have a silent conversation for a minute. Andrew started signing something - it was a gesture Neil hadn't been taught by his mother, but he figured it wasn't very flattering. Wymack shook his head, making a cutting motion at his palm. Neil recognized that -  _stop_.

Andrew shot another cold glare over his shoulder at Neil, before he turned back toward the man. After another long minute of signing, the younger boy signed something viciously at Wymack, who smiled smugly back at him, nodding. Neil was half-tempted to just sneak away while they were occupied, his skin still prickling uncomfortably with the knowledge that someone had managed to sneak up on him without him noticing, when both men turned toward him again.

"Come stay with us," Wymack offered. "We can afford to house one more person. If you decide to leave tomorrow I won't stop you. But I will not let you go on alone."

"I am not useless," Neil signed back warily, gesturing toward his ears. Wymack shook his head.

"I can see that. You may even be the most skilled out of all of us," he signed. "But it's getting dark soon. We're heading back anyways."

"Come along or fuck off," Andrew added on. "None of my concern."

With that, he turned and began to stalk off. Wymack regarded Neil for one more moment, before nodding to himself like he'd found the thing he was looking for, and turned to follow Andrew. Neil was left, stunned, in the clearing.

Then he shook himself out his stupor, and trailed after them, warmed by the glow of a setting sun and a new night.

**Author's Note:**

> so i watched a quiet place the other day and couldn't get this au out of my head. this will be quite a heavy and emotional ride, but i'm very excited for it and i hope you guys will enjoy it too. it won't be as long as my other stories but i'll try balancing updates out w my other fics! i didn't want this to be accidentally deleted again (happened one too many times)
> 
> anyway, strap in for the ride peeps! because it'll be quite a journey. 
> 
> also, mary isn’t as shitty in this fic.
> 
> any comments/kudos are greatly appreciated, and thanks for reading! <3


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